


unlost

by realmsoffreedom



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-05-31 13:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19426618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realmsoffreedom/pseuds/realmsoffreedom
Summary: He bought the shirt this morning. Lucky for him, Primark’s Pride section was nothing less than teeming. This shirt, white with simple rainbow lettering, was the tamest of the selection. He bypassed the bright and bold fonts, larger than life letters arranged in some of the most specific – cringey – sayings he’s ever seen.And now, being here and seeing the parade for all that it is – all that it’s been so far, really. It only started twenty minutes ago – he doesn’t know what to feel.or, arthur works up the courage to go to his first pride, and gets a whole lot more than he bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi! i wanted to get this up before the month was over, looks like i'm just in time. 
> 
> i've been planning this story since pride last year, if i'm honest. i finally found a fandom that fits it best, and i'm so excited for it. the premise is 'merlin works at a lgbtq+ center, and arthur is a closested baby gay', but the story goes far deeper than that, with all the other characters and their storylines. i have so much planned. i don't want to give anything away, so, for now, enjoy the first chapter. (and heed the tags, please. it's gonna be dark and triggering - not quite yet, this first chapter's pretty light - so please do be careful) 
> 
> and for the record, i live 30 minutes outside of philadelphia, so i'm basing the parade off my experiences at philly pride. and yes, ass-cutout man _was_ an actual person i saw at pride this past year. he's iconic. we love him.
> 
> anyway, enjoy! and please tell me what you thought in the comments!

Someone’s wearing a costume with a cutout in the arse. 

He’s walking in the parade, but at the moment, everything’s kind of at a standstill. The float that just passed has halted a few feet further down the street, and its occupants have leapt off and are now milling around the space, mingling with some of those walking, and handing out fallen necklaces to the crowd. 

It’s barely noon on a Sunday morning, and he’s already seen some bloke’s entire ass. And the man is walking around like it’s nothing, like he knows his cheeks are attracting the eyes of everyone he passes and it’s as normal as showing up in jeans and an old t-shirt. There’s a fucking _tail_ protruding from the back of the costume, just above his ass cutout, and it wags back and forth with every step he takes. He seems unbothered.

 _That’s just the vibe here_ , Arthur thinks. He inhales, long and heavy, and looks down at his own outfit. The most worn pair of jeans from his closet and a shirt he found last minute at Primark with P R I D E spelled out across the chest, each letter a different color of the rainbow. 

He wasn’t planning on coming today. 

He’s known about the parade for weeks, left it marinating in the meadows at the back of his mind, unable to be buried under layers of noise. He tried to forget about it, toss it aside and mire himself in more work, more cases, more reasons to justify the couch he was settling into. Comfortable and unassuming, resistant to the future and every ounce of obstacle it would potentially produce. 

But he knew about it and he couldn’t forget it, the thought swirling and snowballing until it soared further than he ever imagined, far more out of hand than expected. 

Pride was happening, and if he found himself, once again, knowingly amongst the four walls of his home office, the night would not end well.

Those nights have _never_ ended well. 

He bought the shirt this morning. Lucky for him, Primark’s Pride section was nothing less than teeming. This shirt, white with simple rainbow lettering, was the tamest of the selection. He bypassed the bright and bold fonts, larger than life letters arranged in some of the most specific – cringey – sayings he’s ever seen. 

And now, being here and seeing the parade for all that it is – all that it’s been so far, really. It only started twenty minutes ago – he doesn’t know what to feel. He’s finding himself in a ball, tangled up in the threads of emotion that stretch too far in all the wrong places, fling him to every end of contemplation, confused and conflicted and once again confounded by this part of him that is so new, yet so embroiled in turmoil already.

Is he supposed to be here? Is he even a _part_ of this community? 

The thought, like it always does, sends his heart on a rampage, pumps of panic dosing themselves throughout his body. He doesn’t know what he is. Or where he belongs. Or if that place is even _here_ , for that matter. He doesn’t know what flag he falls under. Maybe he doesn’t even _have_ a flag. Maybe the right place for him has always been at Vivian’s side, pleasing their fathers and spearheading the firm’s new initiative.

“-on you.” He jumps at the nudge to his shoulder, feels the shudder run all the way through his body as he blinks and tries to refocus. “Shit, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean ta scare ya.”

Black hair – the man – is holding both hands up in surrender and smiling sheepishly at him. The pink beads are dangling from his right hand, which is – quite literally – covered from wrist to forearm in more necklaces he’s looped a few times over to turn into bracelets. 

His shirt speaks of a community center, and when Arthur looks past him, to the large float only a few feet behind, he sees the same logo stamped across the bottom. “I, uh, yeah, sorry, what did you say? I keep getting distracted, I’m sorry.”

“No worries, mate, there’s so much going on- wait, is this your first time?”

“Y-yeah,” he admits. His heart is pounding, thrumming louder by the second. “I wasn’t planning on coming today, to be honest.” Black hair is still looking at him with that smile on his face, eyes kind, gaze unwavering. _Why are you telling him this? Do you actually think he wants to hear it?_ “No offense, or anything!” He rushes to add. “Just- my job’s really-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me…” 

“Arthur,” he supplies. 

“Arthur! Nice to meet you, mate.” Black hair holds out the necklace again. “I think it’d look really great on you.”

Arthur bites his lip as he ducks his head and allows black hair – he really needs to figure out what this guy’s name is – to slip the beads around his neck. The plastic is cool against his damp skin, quickly warming to his body. He reaches up to finger the ends of the beads.

Black hair is grinning at him, now. “Just as I thought. You want this too?” He holds out a rainbow lanyard. The letters printed on the fabric match the graphic on his shirt and the logo on the float. There’s a bright green whistle on the end. It matches the ones he’s seen in so many peoples’ mouths, ones that have been blowing all morning, shrill and loud and right next to his eardrums. The parade, entirely, has been a barrage of bedlam.

He knows it’s meant to be. He knows what this day is for. Loud and proud, unashamed and unapologetic, celebrating sexuality in this massive party, because people aren’t pretenders and their genders are valid and everyone who’s ever felt unaccepted and outcasted is at home, here. He knows that. He _knows_.

But his hands are shaking and his heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest and he didn’t think it was possible, to feel all these things, at once. He doesn’t think it’s supposed to happen. No one else is reacting like this. He’s the only loser here, the only one who seems to be confusing the theme of today with his own need to overreact to everything. 

“Hey, you okay?” He blinks furiously and zones in on black hair again. He’s dropped the hand holding the lanyard and is leaning into the barricade now, hand hovering inches away from Arthur’s shoulder. 

“Yeah- yeah, sorry,” he forces out. “Sorry, I just- sorry.”

“Listen, I’ve gotta go in a couple seconds,” Black hair meets his eyes and white-knuckles the barricade. “But I’ll be around here after the parade. My friends always wanna grab something to eat before we head off to the festival, so if you can, stay? I’d love to talk longer. I’m-”

“MERLIN!” 

He looks immediately in the direction of the voice, and, lo and behold, it belongs to ass-cutout man. He’s perched at the top of the float, strands of hair blowing into his eyes, as he waves wildly. “COME ON!”

“Merlin,” Black hair – _Merlin_ – says, rolling his eyes. “Please wait, okay? If you can.”

“I- I’ll be here,” Arthur manages. He glances from ass-cutout man’s intense gesticulating to Merlin’s wide eyes, and inhales. “I’ll see you then.”

And then he watches, as Merlin turns around and sprints for the already-moving float. Ass cut-out man has moved to the lower level, and he extends a hand to pull Merlin on. Arthur tries to catch Merlin’s eyes once more, but he’s seemingly already locked in conversation, shrugging his shoulders and swatting at ass-cutout man’s shoulder, shaking his head. 

Arthur swallows. 

_What did you just sign yourself up for?_

…

“It’s been twenty minutes, and you already got yourself a guy.”

“Gwaine-”

“God _damn_ , Merlin. If only the rest of us were that fortunate.” Gwaine brings a hand up to his eyes and cranes his neck. “He’s cute, too. That jawline? Gorgeous. You lucky little shit.”

“He’s straight,” Merlin mutters. “Or closeted. He looked petrified, for christ’s sake. I doubt he’d even kiss a boy, let alone go on a date with one.”

“See? You’re already fretting over him!” Gwaine crows. “Once Merlin starts fretting over you, there’s no going back, we all know that! Right, Percy?”

Merlin reaches over to punch Gwaine in the shoulder, as Percy waves a hand from the other side of the float, shouting his affirmation. He doesn’t even look in their direction, too pre-occupied with throwing lanyards, trying to make sure every passerby catches one.

“Anyway, he’s here, isn’t he?” Gwaine continues. He reaches inside their cooler and pops the top off a can of beer. “And on his own, and I’m telling you, my gaydar’s a lot of things, but it’s never been wrong.”

Merlin rolls his eyes and presses his elbows against the railing. They’ve moved a good few feet, by now, but he can still see the flash of Arthur’s blonde hair, pink beads shining where the sunlight is reflecting off of them.

Gwaine was right about one thing. Arthur’s gorgeous, with well-muscled arms almost bulging out of his t-shirt, and an angular jawline so pronounced that it could probably cut the sharpest of glass. There was a certain tension, a stiffness, about Arthur’s body, that felt overwhelming. Something about his hesitation at the pink beads and the darkness that clouded over his gaze, when Merlin presented the lanyard. 

Something about his stutters and apologies and resistance to every ounce of external appearances. 

Something different. 

Merlin takes a breath, and hopes Arthur will wait for him.


	2. Chapter 2

“What do you mean, you might not go?”

“Morgana-”

“You can’t not meet up with him, Arthur.”

“Listen, I just-”

“This guy saw you, in the thousands of people, and wants to hang out after the parade, and you’re saying no? Are you insane?”

“Is he?” Arthur mutters. He takes steps backward until his shoulders meet a hard surface, and lets his head flop back against the brick wall. Allowing himself a long breath in, closing his eyes as his body relaxes, “I don’t know what I’m doing here, Morgana. It’s all just- _so much_. Way more than I thought it would be.”

“Arthur, he asked to talk, not for a kidney.” He can practically hear her rolling her eyes, picture her raised eyebrows and the slight upturn of her neck, as she drums her nails against her kitchen table. If he listens close enough, he can hear her doing it. 

“Yeah? How can you be sure this “talk” won’t end in him whisking me back to his flat for a quick fuck?” 

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“I don’t know _what_ I want!” He snaps. The weight of the words pools easily in a pit of sticky lava that makes its home in the pit of his stomach. It’s hot, flames licking underneath his skin as the fire scorches his insides. It’s a curl of heat that singes his chest and disperses its warmth outward. 

The flare dies quickly, as quick as it came, yanking a piece of his vigilance with it. He sags against the wall and slides down until his bottom meets concrete, presses the back of his head into the brick and closes his eyes. “I don’t know what to do, Morgana.”

This feeling is foreign, a fresh piece of cloth he’s fingering for the first time, acclimating to the touch as it dips in and brushes against his skin. It’s new and not known and the furthest from familiar he’s ever felt. Far too big to file away for later, far too much to pretend that paradigms aren’t pointless and his existence is gaining a new angle of limitless. 

Pride is the embodiment of another world, an entirely separate facet of existence, and it feels just so-

“Because you’re overthinking it.” Morgana’s voice crackles against his ear, softer now. “You wanted to go today, didn’t you? And you enjoyed it?”

“Y-Yeah,” he mumbles. “I guess. I don’t know.”

“You’re not swearing about how they’re all fairies that made stupid, pointless decisions to live very difficult lives, so I’d say you are.”

He winces. “Morgana-”

“The fact that you’re torn up about this is enough, Arthur.” The snark disappears from her tone. Warmth bubbles upward and surges rapidly into its place. “You know what you want to do. You’re just scared to do it.”

“And, for the record, living a life that disrupts the delicate balance of Uther Pendragon’s hopes and dreams is freeing, dear brother. You’re not wrong to want it.”

And then the line goes dead.

He exhales and turns his gaze to the sky, blinks rapidly as he brings a hand up to finger the beads still draped around his neck.

There were so many organizations, so many different foundations and formations of charities created, solely, for the community. Highlighting bisexuality and pansexuality and being transgender, placing emphasis on hesitance, _you are who you are, and it’s okay if you don’t know who that person is yet_ , reinforcing the importance of discovery, of acceptance, of love for simple existence and the mere product of such. 

And now that it’s over, looking back on the rainbow paraphernalia, confetti on the streets, the air still ringing with faint whistles, now that the lens is clear and the world is wider and expanding by the second, it feels different.

He’s only ever dated girls. He’s only ever kissed girls. He’s only ever assumed a dominant role in his relationships, doted on perfumed bodies that hung off his arm and executed his part to perfection, ripped a hunk out of his chest and thrust it out into the world, watched as it was stepped on and ignored the hurt. 

And then he thinks of black hair, blue eyes that sparkled in the light of the sun and bore into his own with such thought, such overwhelming concentration that permeated the walls of their conversation and sent the world spinning out of orbit. Expectations be damned, diluted by the sear of salvation that dissolved his carefully crafted resolve of premonition. 

“Arthur?”

…

Arthur jumps and manages to whack his head against the abaft brick wall. He winces and squeezes his eyes shut, bringing a hand up to the back of his head.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Merlin reaches out to lay a hand on his shoulder, but wavers at the last second. He ducks his head and pulls the hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean ta scare you.”

“You didn’t.” Arthur says, talking more to the ground. His heart has started speeding up, and he’s hot again, waves of flame dosing into his veins and eclipsing his entire body. “Sorry. I just got off the phone with my sister.”

“She didn’t come?” 

“She’s working today.” He swallows, squeezes his eyes shut and forces in a measly breath. “There was some issue last night, so she had to go in this morning."

Merlin nods. “Kinda overwhelming, first time on your own, huh?”

Morgana was supposed to be with him. They planned this together. He remembers the moment he agreed to go, remembers the pit it created in his stomach and the immediate urge to back out, before the affirmation had even left his lips. 

He isn’t sure how he’s kept his composure this long, even. Morgana called last night and said she wouldn’t be able to make it, and yet, some primordial force still propelled him out of bed and to the tube station. 

“Yeah. For sure.”

The silence that falls over them feels sticky, the way it clings to Arthur’s shoulders and pulls at his chest, spiderwebbing across and trapping his body in the wreckage. It’s like he’s moving through molasses, trying his best to continue at the set pace, but falling behind with every step. 

“Uh…” The words slip on his tongue, grabbing with no purchase. There’s nothing to latch onto. “You said something about your friends,” he lands on, pressing his hands against the bottom of his jean pockets and trying to curl his fingers around the fabric. 

“Oh yeah!” Arthur lets out a breath as he watches Merlin’s face light up. “Yeah, they’re all heading off to the Panda Express down the road. It’s kinda our little tradition after the parade, you know?”

“You didn’t go with them?” 

“Nah.” Merlin shrugs. “I needed some air. And besides.” He pauses and nudges Arthur’s shoulder. “Said I’d hang with you, didn’t I?”

Arthur can feel his neck growing hot again, shirt dampening against his back as he answers, “you don’t have to. Your friends are probably waiting.”

“Eh, maybe. But it’s Lance’s first pride, too, and he and Gwen are probably glad I’m not there ta third wheel,” Merlin replies, punctuating his sentence with a chuckle. “And Elena and Mithian are probably off making out somewhere, and I honestly have no idea what the fuck Gwaine got up to Or, rather, what fuck he got up to.” He grins at the end of that.

Arthur forces in a ragged inhale. His palms are sweating, slick against his jeans, and his head is spinning, as he tries to replay Merlin’s words. _Elena, and Gwaine, and Lance, and he said other names too_ … Merlin is still talking, but he isn’t listening to any of it. He manages to catch the end of what Merlin says, barely. 

“-m’so fuckin’ happy for Elyan. First pride since his surgery, he’s so happy today. It’s just- really nice to be with everyone, y’know?”

When Arthur is quiet for a few moments, Merlin looks up and winces. “Sorry, I tend to ramble. My friends hate it. You can definitely tell me to shut up, next time.”

“Oh no, no, it’s okay.” It’s an inner fight with himself, to keep his voice steady. His hands have started to shake. “I just don’t really, like, I, um- what kind of surgery?”

“Oh, shit.” The words are muttered under his breath, and then Merlin falls silent. 

Arthur swallows, harder this time. Painful, against the growing lump in his throat. He can’t bring himself to look up, to see the look on Merlin’s face, to have a concrete image of his imagined visage. Narrowed eyes and dark brows, disappointment that swims to the surface and fills in all the gaps in his face, displeasure and disgruntlement all sandwiched into one. 

It can make its home next to the other memorized blueprints, burn itself into the back of his mind, belligerent and brutal, begging for the chance to slip into his consciousness and take hold the way its predecessors have. 

He knew he didn’t belong here. He knew this place wasn’t for him. It’s too big, too much, too far into another land that he simply does not know how to navigate. Too many rules and terms and implicit information, all dancing around his head like a secret he’s not in on. Everyone knows but him. He’s on the other side of a clear glass wall, watching them mill around, in the know, beating his fists against the grievance like it’ll change something. 

He needs to get out. 

He’ll make an excuse and get out of here, go home, and burn this shirt and every reminder of the mess today turned into. 

“I’ll just- I’ll leave you alone, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so-”

“Unsure of something you had every right not to know about?”

He lifts his head to meet Merlin’s eyes, startled. “Merlin, I-”

“It’s my fault for assuming, Arthur,” Merlin continues. “My bad. Really. I work at an LGBTQ+ center, and spend so much of my time there, that I forget not everyone lives in the rainbow bubble that I do, 24/7.”

“I want to learn.” He doesn’t realize he’s saying the words until he hears them come out of his mouth. “I have, for a while. There’s just so much, and I kinda…”

“Get lost in it all?” Merlin supplies. At Arthur’s nod, he smiles. “You’re not alone, mate. Trust me. Even I get all tangled up in it, sometimes.” 

He pauses for so long that Arthur is beginning to wrack his brain for something else to say, some bit of small talk to keep the conversation on its track, but eventually, Merlin speaks again, “you don’t have to say yes, I know today’s already been a lot, but, if you want, I could take you to meet my friends?” He phrases the statement as a question. “You’d be surprised how much you can pick up, just hanging out with them. They’re all great, and so accepting, I promise you won’t feel out of place.”

He’s rambling again, and he knows it. Merlin’s cheeks go slightly pink at the end of his sentence, and Arthur has to smile. “I-I’d really like that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (okay i know the UK doesn't have panda express but it's a thing my friends and i do every year after the parade and i wanted to stick that in there let me live pls)
> 
> thanks for reading!! i'd love to hear what you thought :)


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